September 27, 2010

It's a rarity for me to agree with anything the CHB writes, especially since I don't read most of it. What I do read is usually through osmosis on other blogs. But every once in a great, long while, he expresses a single idea which, completely separated from its context, I can agree with.

In the case of his particularly venomous columns over the last week, that single idea is that the first two wins of weekend's series with the Yankees shouldn't have gotten our hopes up.

Otherwise, I assure you, I wish I could send him to a tiny desert island far, far away where he could rant about Patriots and Red Sox ownership to a volleyball on a beach when he wasn't trying to figure out how to spear fish, and leave the rest of us who are just trying to enjoy sports alone.

Anyway, it's kind of hard to say I'm disappointed in the Sox losing last night (beyond being annoyed that it had to happen in such a dragged out, excruciating way), when I never expected them to even win this series to begin with. I definitely didn't expect Daisuke to come out and regulate the way he did for the first six or so innings. He came within a pitch of preserving the one-run lead the Red Sox' Strand-O-Matic offense left him with, and he even gave up an honest homer when he finally came unglued instead of walking fourteen guys and then giving up three doubles like he usually does. I'm ever more deeply concerned for Jonathan Papelbon's future with this team, but that's really nothing new this year.

It's easy to forget with a game like last night's still fresh, but this weekend still put that familiar choking feeling back into hearts and minds at Yankee Stadium, and kept our archenemies in second place, even if only for a while. In the grand scheme of things, I still think Terry Francona deserves recognition for the work he's been able to do with the scraps of team he's been left with most of this year (his decision to pitch Okajima in the 10th with Bard available notwithstanding), and the callups seem to be laying a foundation to build on next season. That's about the long and short of it at this point, and while last night may have made it official, it's been like that for a while.

What I can get well and truly pissy about, meanwhile, is the drivel that flowed from Joe Morgan's pie-hole during an otherwise exciting game, which was especially deplorable, even by Joe Morgan standards. I knew going in that he was going to be calling the game, and tried to steel myself accordingly, but I still thought my head was going to explode rather than take in any more of his babbling about how the Red Sox "gave up too early" when they started calling up minor leaguers over the last couple months. Instead, Morgan seemed to be of the opinion that the Red Sox should've traded them for somebody -- exactly who was never specified -- that could help them win this year, and he used this weekend as an example of why they should regret not having made such a move.

And so, apparently, in the candy-land of Morgan's mind, the Red Sox should've been able to anticipate the twisted maze of events that would bring them to this weekend in late September, in which they came in 5.5 games out, but still not mathematically eliminated, and should have, I don't know, pushed harder for another team to pull a "major league hitter" out of its ass just for them. Or something.

That's right. According to Joe, this lingering "chance" hasn't remained technically viable for the Red Sox because of solid play by callups while the Yankees have obligingly gone on a skid. No, clearly, if the front office had just traded all of them for a power hitter to be named later (and again, I ask, which ripe fruit, exactly, did the Red Sox leave dangling on some other team's vine this year, when it was there for the taking?), the team would be in much better shape right now to remain not-mathematically-eliminated, for perhaps another day or two!

Granted, I'm just a blogger. There's no way I could do color for a live game myself. But seriously, neither can Joe Morgan.

June 19, 2010

Being at the ballpark for something like this is great for saying you were there, but not as great for taking an objective assessment of what happened -- especially not when you're way out in the upper rows of grandstand 3, approximately as far from the plate as any seat in the ballpark.

And I have noticed that the ballpark generally is a different world (most of the time) from the rest of the talk that surrounds the Red Sox off the field. In some cases the emotions run even higher, and in others, the bitterest arguments on the sports pages melt away so quickly it's laughable to even think of the sturm and drang you left behind at the gate.

I will also confess that I went pretty much straight from North Carolina to this game, and so missed most of the public conversation that had been going on this week.

That said, here is what I can report from being there last night: The first time Manny showed his face on deck in a Dodgers uniform at Fenway Park, around me, the boos unquestionably reigned. But as he strode to the plate and his name was announced, behind me in Grandstand 1 a whole row of guys stood and clapped, even starting a "Manny" chant.

The boos were muddied with a cheer that from my seat seemed to begin with those guys behind me, and spread in a wave over the ballpark. To this, the boo-ers responded by growing louder, and the cycle continued until the best you could say, really, about the overall sentiment of Fenway as Manny returned, was that there certainly was a whole lot of noise. Whichever side of the "to boo or not to boo" debate you fall on, it was obvious from the mixture of love and hate, rebuke and welcome, that someone important was there.

***

This morning, Sox superfan and photographer extraordinaire Kelly O'Connor posted a Facebook note that said, in a nutshell:

I understand the impulse to cheer him for his accomplishments. I
understand the impulse to boo him for his sins. I don't understand
anyone who thinks it's a clear-cut decision and that those who choose
one or the other are [insert inflammatory and insulting adjective here]
[actually, go for it, use a whole string of 'em].

She and I went on to hash over the whole debate in the comments on Facebook (you have to be Kelly's friend to see it, so I'll give you the Cliff's Notes).

And yet if you follow me on Twitter, you would've seen I was glaring daggers at two guys behind me who booed Manny as he came to the plate last night.

As I told Kelly, if I thought the boo-birds were the product of as much reflection and
intelligent thought as she displayed in her post, perhaps I might not have turned and glared at the
ones behind me last night. But I think many if not most of the boo-birds are the same
sanctimonious, self-righteous, talk-radio Kool-Aid drinkers who booed Manny when he was still the reigning World Series MVP. Maybe if they hadn't done that, I'd have given their
point of view more weight. (Also, the specific boo-birds behind me later took to chucking
peanut shells at the heads of fans ahead of us they perceived as being
TOO excited to see Manny. So they weren't exactly making a great case for the "booing" faction.)

Whatever Manny's sins, I
think it does Sox fans no favors to perpetuate this drama. Johnny Damon
in pinstripes is one thing. But for the rest of the 25 who won in 04,
why not give the guy a hand and move on with our lives? Acknowledging his positive contributions around here does not mean we condone
the reported transgressions.

While we know much of Manny's behavior, especially in 2008, was completely inexcusable, we also know the way team management / press have been accused of colluding to trash guys on their
way out of town. It even happened with Theo / Lucchino / Shaughnessy
during that whole contract dispute in 2005, where Theo was suddenly cast as an ungrateful upstart during his brief hiatus from the team. I realize there's still a
difference between Theo's situation and pushing traveling secretary Jack McCormick tothe ground, but I also think there's an
element here with fans who boo of following along with a narrative created
to serve an ulterior purpose they may not have even thought about.

During
that 2005 booing episode (which I still think was completely
pathetic--this is more open for debate), Dan Shaughnessy wrote a line
I'll never forget (quoting from memory here, apologize for errors): "Manny will still probably be greeted like Charles
Lindbergh at Fenway this weekend, which is proof there is really no way
to insult Red Sox fans." The F U I felt in response to that was NOT
toward Manny -- it was toward the elements that made a
cottage industry out of roasting him every summer and managed to
manipulate fans into booing their first World Series MVP in 86 years just months after they won. Over what? Not running out ground balls?

The very real issues of 2008 aside, I come to this with Manny-outrage fatigue; this vilification and debate have been
ongoing since at least 2003. Of course I can't know what was in the mind and heart of every fan who booed yesterday. But I also see how a good portion of
this animosity got stirred up in the first place, and I don't trust the
motives of the people who stirred it up any more than I believe Manny's a
saint.

To which Kelly responded, quite eloquently:

I don't disagree that media manipulation goes on--but part of the
purpose of my own comments is to leave that stuff OUT. I frankly don't
care what Shaughnessy writes. You had observations in your own post ["Fugly", linked above]
about YOUR observations of his teammates. That's not manipulation. The
fact that he pushed down McCormick is not in dispute. I almost think the opposite--that people give
him a pass on the big stuff because they look at the small things and
think, hey, that's not so bad!

I was never worried about whether he
ran out a grounder. I'll take that as the price of the rest of his
ability. But I think the extent to which he let his unhappiness affect
his participation on a TEAM is pathetic. To me it undercuts the love for
a guy like Mike Lowell--who I think could get traded to or DFA'd and
picked up by the Yankees and still get cheered at Fenway--to sweep what
Manny did under the rug.

But I am not criticizing folks who cheered
Manny. That's their right. I AM criticizing those who can't see why
people could have the opposite reaction and still be thoughtful,
sensible, loyal, smart fans.

And so I return to the "whole lot of noise" conclusion I reached at the time, and ultimately, I think Kelly and I agree more than we disagree. We both seem to be on the same wavelength, at least, when it comes to the idea of deep ambiguity as the overwhelming feeling of the moment, rather than total celebration or condemnation.

***

One guy I could get behind booing was Roger Clemens, who randomly showed up last night in the front row of the Monster. The only reason I knew about it was because of Gordon Edes' Twitter. Fans were mobbing Roger on the Monster between innings, and he was shown on the scoreboard screen a few times, but his appearance was a surprise to the Sox, and no announcement was made. There wasn't much reaction when he was flashed on the screen without being identified, since I'm sure most fans didn't realize it was him from that random camera shot amid the others of fans in the stands. But I would've loved a good "ROOGGG-ERRRR" chant for old times' sake.

***

Much more enjoyable last night than any of the Manny hoopla was the good-natured banter I witnessed between Sox fans around me and a large block of Dodgers fans who'd shown up in the lower grandstand nearby, and emboldened by their numbers, started "Let's Go Dodgers" and even "Let's Go Lakers" chants. Boston fans responded with a booming "Let's Go Red Sox" that drowned out the first, and an even louder "BEAT LA" chant that was the refrain of the 5th inning as the Sox put up seven runs against a beleaguered Dodgers pen.

"IT GOT REALLY QUIET OVER THERE!!" hollered a guy behind me toward the Dodgers fans after the big inning had finally ended. But the LA fans bounced back again in the later innings, and the back and forth continued.

This was a less intense, dare I say more mature, form of trash talk than I'd seen at, say, Sox-Yankees games. Personally, I admired that crowd of Dodgers fans for showing up and being loud and proud, and even more for their ability to get that many seats together at Fenway for this game. After all, this is what Red Sox fans do at virtually every road ballpark the team visits. But I also appreciated the Red Sox fans for being pointed, but not vulgar, in their response (other than the peanut-shell throwers, that is). There were no brawls, no verbal altercations, no ad hominem attacks. Just the continuation of a cross-country rivalry that began in a series of epic basketball games this week and then bled through into an exciting baseball contest last night.

***

As caught up as we all were in old news, whether the NBA finals just past or a reprise of the Manny circus that left town two years ago, last night there was novelty to celebrate as well, in the form of minor league callup Felix Doubront, the third-youngest lefty to start for the Red Sox in the last 29 years (this per the Fenway scoreboard trivia -- the other two were Jon Lester and Abe Alvarez). He went 5 innings and gave up 5 runs, but it was enough when backed by Boston's offensive onslaught. If we're keeping track of Fenway fans' reactions to things and whether or not we approve, let's submit for the record that Doubront received a standing ovation that dwarfed any reaction to Manny's at bats.

I also got a taste of what it might've been like for opposing fans when Manny wore a Sox uniform, as he came up against Daniel Bard in the top of the ninth with the Sox up four and two men on base. He wasn't going to be able to hit the tying or go-ahead run in that situation, but the potential of making it a one-run ballgame didn't sit well with me, either. What I felt as I watched Bard work, alternating between the ant-like live action far away on the infield and the monitors showing the NESN feed over our heads, was very real fear, the flip side of the braggadocio that used to fill the place when Manny stepped up in situations like this with a "B" under the pine tar on his helmet.

But this was not six or even three years ago. Manny in his prime might've been Bard's undoing, but in this case the youngster finally dropped the aging slugger with a curveball for a called strike three so pretty I could even see it bend from where I was sitting. "Dirty Water" sounded. "Beat LA" echoed. And it was a moment not for the past, but for the youth of our team, and its future.

March 11, 2010

In good times and bad, Garciaparra
was unnecessarily difficult in all interactions with the media. It made
no sense, given the fawning coverage he received (and deserved) for the
first seven years of his career. Fans needn’t care which players give
good sound bites, but no one was more unhappy than Nomar, and it
infected the workplace.

It’s
forgiving of the Sox to bring him back, but there’s no need to reinvent
history in the process. Sox fans are too smart. It’s insulting for
Epstein, Lucchino, and Garciaparra to insist that this relationship has
always been good.

In
yesterday’s sorry spirit of disingenuousness and hypocrisy, Garciaparra
announced that he has taken a job with ESPN. This makes him a member of
the media, which is like Sarah Palin telling us she is going to be
chairman of the Democratic National Committee.

Garciaparra
is the one who had a red stripe put down in front of lockers in the Sox
clubhouse. Woe was the scribe who crossed Nomar’s line of death. Now he
is a credential-wearing media guy, groveling for free food, Marriott
points, and a few seconds with 20-year-old Casey Kelly.

While I still find Shaughnessy easily as disingenuous and, what was it, "unnecessarily difficult"? as Nomar ("I hate to be the fly in the punch bowl here," he writes before laying into Garciaparra with all the venom in his pen -- my ass, you do), at least when it comes to his announcement he plans to work for ESPN, I admit my eyebrows were raised.

And while it was easy to get caught up in the sentimentality of yesterday -- I maintain most of us were thinking not of Nomar and his potential hypocrisy but of ourselves, our emotions about him in 2004 (and let's not forget, five years ago, today's 18-year-old "adults" were 12 and 13 year old kids), where we were when we heard he was traded, waxing nostalgic about how things used to be -- I also found myself Tweeting, "Fame's no longer such a burden when it's gone, eh, No. 5."

While, as I said, no Sox uniform has been heavier than the one Nomar wore, and no post-World Series star will ever know the kind of pressure he was under, it is true that his exit was messy, he was a bitter pill for most of that last year, and Shaughnessy knows better than I how he was with press in the clubhouse. Plenty of players might snub Shaughnessy himself, but I've heard about that red line before, and something like that doesn't discriminate between hacks and noble scribes. Something like that says, get away from me, all of you. ALL of you.

If you want to know the truth, if I had to assess Nomar's mental state right now, it would be, to quote the old hair band tune, "You Don't Know What You've Got Till it's Gone." I believe he has regrets, about the way he acted, about what he didn't know, about how the rest of his career has turned out. He went from a god in this town, an icon, to a utility guy in the National League. He's had his fill of his antisocial solitude -- and, I believe, has realized just how careful you should be about what you wish for. And yes, he now has to figure out a new way to make a living.

It did make me chuckle, hearing Nomar look back with such fondness on his time with the Red Sox -- and it is, of course, a reversal of his attitude when he walked out of that clubhouse in Minnesota in July 2004.

"It’s downright fraudulent to deny or ignore how bad this relationship was at the end," Shaughnessy harps.

But I don't know that anyone's denying or ignoring, is the thing, at least among those of us out here in the peanut gallery, whom the CHB, as always, completely underestimates. And I wonder, what's the harm in this forgiveness? What does it cost us, if we all acknowledge that once upon a time, what was between us and this player was nothing short of a love affair? What's the harm in this fleeting acknowledgment for a player who, in the end, will probably neither see his number retired or his face on a plaque in Cooperstown? Should we really let him retire from the game without even a tiny nod to what he once meant to the team and the town? And if so, for what purpose?

Shaughnessy looks at Nomar and sees a certain manipulativeness, which I can't necessarily argue with. He looks at yesterday's sentimentality and sees cheesiness, which I also can't totally deny. But where he's wrong is when he looks at the fans who embraced him yesterday as naive, stupid and / or in denial. What we're doing, that Shaughnessy can't or won't, is acknowledging how good it was once, how badly it ended, appreciating the closure...and moving on.

Statcounter C2F

Copyright

WHAT THIS MEANS:
It means you can quote me or reproduce parts of my posts--the sharing of ideas are what the blogosphere is all about.
But it means YOU MUST ATTRIBUTE THE SOURCE. Say where you got the quote from. Say whose idea it was. Say who found the information. Give credit where credit is due.
Do NOT reproduce any of my posts as a whole. Do NOT reproduce any of my content for commercial gain. ESPECIALLY DO NOT PASS MY WORK OFF AS YOUR OWN. Plagiarists will be found, humiliated, and, where appropriate, prosecuted.
ALL CONTENT UNLESS OTHERWISE NOTED IS SOLE PROPERTY OF THE SITE AUTHOR AND PROTECTED UNDER COPYRIGHT.

CONTACT

I'm happy to talk with you about exchanging links or advertising on this blog, but please don't use my site's comments section to explicitly promote your site or your business without getting in touch with me first.